Alone In His apartment, His Fantasy came True
This story is from one of my followers. His name is hidden on his request. He was in his apartment, alone — as his parents had gone for a relative function. He rubbed his hand over his hair nervously. He stretched out for a cigarette. The fire was born on the cigarette’s tip to ease the tightness around his chest. He picked up his phone. He paused for a while before dialling Divya, his girlfriend. On the second ring, she answered his call. “Hi…,” her voice was pleasant, even though something playful in her tone sent a shiver down on him. “Hi,” he said softly. His voice was deeper, almost husky. “What are you doing?” “Just lying in bed, thinking about you,” she replied, and there was playfulness in her words. He tried to relax and calm down and he swallowed deeply. “Well, what kind of thoughts?” “Hmmm, that you were wishing,” she said softly, and her voice reached his ears and gave him a chill. He collapsed into the corner of his couch, his system already doing its best to respond to the sound of her voice. He imagined her clearly—her messy hair, how she bit her lip to look sexy. “Regarding the dream I said to you the day before,” he said, his voice deep. She gasped on the other end of the line. “Hmmm?” He went on narrating what he saw in the dream, “Your skin was soft when I touched it”, the hand not holding the cigarette moving to the shirt he was wearing and running it over the flat stomach. “How your body was moulded to mine.” “Dinesh…” her voice was sexual but also uncertain. He could hear the sound of the sheets. He could almost visualise her turning over in bed, adjusting herself for whatever he wanted to talk to her about next. “If you were here right now…” he started, and his voice got deeper, more sensual. “I would kiss you gently, as if time was of no essence, starting from your lips, then your neck, and the area that gives you goosebumps.” He felt her breathless and visualised how her body responded to his words. It made his desire increase. The need to touch her, to feel her against him, was becoming unbearable. “I’d wrap my arms around you and bring us as close as two people can get,” he went on, his tone low, controlled. “I would let my hands wander all over your body, knowing the texture of your skin, the taste of your skin.” She uttered a low, pained sound, and the noise went straight through his system. He shut his eyes and allowed himself to be taken away by the moves they were making in their mind. “I want to be with you,” she said softly, erotically. “I wish I could feel you… touch you,” she continued. “Me too,” he murmured. “I am alone in my home.” They were silent momentarily, each listening to the other’s breathing, although they were several feet apart. They did not speak. But there was tension between them. The tension of passion that has to wait for an opportunity to become a flame. She cringed at the reminder. The last time, they had agreed to spend the night together in his home when he was alone. He had refused at the last moment, saying that he was afraid that his neighbours would see. She would come over late at night. “No cancelling this time,” he said to her. “I will wait for you.” “All right,” she whispered, “I will plan, and I will be there soon.” The clock struck 8 PM, and he was waiting for her. He was pacing when he heard a soft knock on the door. She was there in the long, white floral dress, he glanced at her beauty. She enters the house and turns a little and says, “Do you like it?” pointing to the dress on her. He can only stand before her and say in a daze: “You look fantastic.” He sat beside her on the couch. He gave her a glass of water, and his hand visibly shook. She gulped the water and asked him, “You are reacting as if it’s the first time.” He responded, “But, I feel nervous… it’s in my house.” There was silence from him. She continued, “I came prepared. I have worn the dress you gifted me. You gifted this dress for your convenience, right? You brought this zipper in the front dress for this reason, right?” He had a smile on his face. He felt the weight of her hands on his chest as she pushed him onto the couch. He felt the cushions give way beneath him. She straddled him, and he felt her knees on his side. The couch is yielding under his back. She put her hands on his waist and slid her hands on his hips as she sat on him. Her breath on his lips made him shiver before she pressed her lips against his and gave him a long, slow kiss. She was gently running her fingers at the end of his shirt. In one fluid motion, she pulled it off him. Her lips went down his neck, across his chest, and the warmth of her lips sent shivers of anticipation down his spine. His fingers went to work without him thinking about it. His fingers went to the zipper on the front of her dress. The noise it made as it slid down was quite faint, barely audible. But the impact was charged. She lowered her top further to show him her chest further and then, with a bend of her neck, undid her bra and let it drop. Passion rose in him, and he turned her over onto the cushions. The warmth of their bodies increased with every contact. His lips went to her breasts. He kissed them gently at first, then more passionately. He felt her respond and push herself up to him. He touched her skin, and it was hot to the touch. Her eyes were lust-filled, and her lips opened slightly. She spoke in a sultry, almost a whisper, “I want to taste you.” It made him shiver, and he looked forward to the time when she would touch him. She did not even blink as she started pulling at his pants with such force that it brought them down off him. She laced her fingers around him and made a humming sound. “You are so hard,” she whispered sexily. “You’re ready. ” He could only gasp ‘yes’ as she moved closer.